That's Childish, So Childish…
Chapter Eight: Then You Wake Up And Remember That You Can't Forget!
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Disclaimer: Who owns Gundam Wing again? All together now… Bansai and Sunrise! You never know—by the end of this, maybe we'll be singing it… I hope not. Oh, by the way, the old fish died finally. Too late to sue me!
Warnings: Sarcasm, some medical term stuff… Sorry, nothing blows up.
Pairings: 2x6 eventually it seems, by the end, but until 6 is an adult again, don't expect anything more than friendship.
Zechs wakes up, and has a chat with Duo and Quatre. Treize starts down a path that may collide with the new desert alliance. Meanwhile, Trowa and Heero consider finding Quatre and the Manganacs.
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Zechs twisted about in the sheets, moaning quietly. He could see the palace burning around him, smell the blood and burning flesh, see bloody streaks on the walls and floor where the fire had yet to spread, hear the roar of flames, falling stone, gunfire outside… Screams of people trying to escape only to run into the firing squad made of Alliance soldiers waiting in mobile suits and on foot… and he was still inside, running the maze of corridors in desperate hopes of finding an unguarded exit…
//Fire, fire all around… Father! Father, how could they do this?!? They were your friends—and friends of friends… I thought… And now… I can't get out! Father! FATHER! So much blood—fire—oh let me out, please let me out! I'm sorry—I'm sorry! I have to leave—they'll kill me, and someone has to… Someone has to rescue Sanc… I'm sorry! There's no-one else—no- one at all, just me...! I'm a coward—I should stay, be brave, face them—I can't! I /can't/! /You/ said the people come first—I /have/ to rescue them… Fire and blood… Fire and blood… I'm a coward, a coward…//
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry—they'll kill me! Have to get out…" Shaking his head, he gripped at the sheets tighter. "There's no-one left, no-one else… A coward, I'm such a coward…"
Shivering, he shook his head again, as if in defiance or negation, though of what he could never define. "The people come first… Have to… Have to…!"
Behind closed eyes, he could see the floor collapsing beneath him, and cried out as he fell what felt like an endless height—
"Noooo!"
And found himself sitting upright in the sheets, gasping for breath, soaked in sweat with his long ragged bangs plastered to his skin, in a dark, unfamiliar room. Sounds of the desert night echoed nearby, through the open door and high windows. Weak moonlight offered vague grey shadows, hinting that the room had furnishings beyond just the bed and nightstand…
//I'm… I'm starting to lose it, I think. Where do the nightmares end, and memories begin anymore? It all feels like it happened yesterday, /all/ of it, the falling of Sanc, everything… But if it did, the rest is a dream of revenge that never happened. Did it? How can it? I'm… It's… I'm losing it. I'm can't find reality anymore—I'm losing it…// Confused, still feeling the aftereffects of his nightmares, Zechs rubbed at his face with his hands, pushing long bangs back from his face. Soft cloth scraped against his skin—light bandages covering his burns and cuts, nearly hiding his hands…
The faintest of rustling sounds told him he wasn't alone.
Disoriented by both nightmares and his tangled memories, feeling vulnerable due to the naked state of things as well as his lack of weaponry at hand, Zechs shivered and pulled the sheets tighter about himself, asking uncertainly, "Who…? Who is it?"
"That was some nightmare, kid," a familiar cheerful voice grudged as Duo's form detached itself from the shadows under the windows.
Zechs puffed a breath of relief, though he bristled slightly. //Why is he here? To watch me yell in my sleep?// "Why?" He let one word ask everything.
The shadowy figure in his dark clothes pulled a chair from somewhere in the semi-darkness, turned it around, and sat down so he could fold his arms across the backrest. "Well, I /did/ say Duo Maxwell hides, didn't I? And you have to admit, when we met, there wasn't much time to hear your story. This—watching someone's dreams and nightmares—was one way to gather a bit… Though I have to admit, it's a lot less coherent than hearing you tell the thing."
Zechs could only stare at him with large eyes, feeling Duo's words slide over him without comprehending much of it. Frustrated, still feeling disoriented, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose with a wrapped finger. //I'm not sure what he means… Oh hell. Focus, Miri, focus! Back to basics…//
"Who rules Sanc?" he demanded abruptly, looking up again.
Duo's shadow jerked backward in what was likely surprise at such an unrelated question. "What…? Who rules… where? Where'd /that/ question come from?"
Frowning, Zechs glared at the Gundam pilot. "Who rules /Sanc/ right now? The Alliance? Or…?"
Seeming incredulous, Duo stood up again and paced a little, rubbing the back of his head. "Sanc, Sanc… Uh, I'm not good with those little Earth countries, though it sounds vaguely familiar…" Suddenly, the young man snapped his fingers. "I know! The little revived kingdom! It was on the news recently—how Relena Dorlian turned out to be actually the Vice Foreign Minister's adopted daughter and really a Peacecraft by blood… I remember telling myself that Heero'd get a kick out of hearing that about his stalker girlfriend…"
//Relena… Okay, then I /did/ set it free—and that's the reality… Relena… Wait a minute!// Young Milliardo stared at Duo as if the young man had grown a second head and was threatening to grow a third. Cold fire stirred slowly behind pale blue eyes… ///Stalker girlfriend/?!?// "Stalker…?"
Chuckling, Duo nodded at the half question, resuming his seat. "Yeah, well, Heero—01, to you—enrolled in her school early on, and when he and I joined another one, she followed. Seems intent on sitting him down for a long chat about peace and such, but after seeing her true roots, is it surprising? Anyway, it's a long story, and I'm not saying more about it until you give me /your/ long tale… By the way, what brought that up, anyway?"
//I guess she's just trying to press for peace… though what she's doing sounds pretty naive… Should I tell him? I don't think… Not that I'm Miri, no. I'll be lucky if he believes me when I tell him I was six feet plus… Heck, /I/ still barely believe me!// Looking down at his hands, Miri was quiet for a long moment, feeling his brief anger fade and depression start setting in. //What'll happen to me? Will I lose my mind entirely?//
Duo's concerned voice was gentle. "Hey, I don't go about blabbing unless it's important. Can't last as a Gundam pilot by telling everything you know, you know? But if you don't want to right now, I guess I can understand—you don't know us too well, either…"
Something within Miri stirred, making a significant crack in the remainders of his old control, upon hearing that understanding voice say that…
"I think I'm starting to lose my mind… my hold on reality," Zechs blurted quietly, shuddering as the words escaped.
His eyes closed. //Now I've done it. There's no way anyone'll believe me—let alone help me—now…//
Duo remained silent, unmoving in the backwards chair.
"My memories… The past feels like the present, and they all get tangled—I've no sense of time between them anymore… After the nightmares, they're so fresh—hard to believe that many of them were over ten years ago…" Resting his head in his bandaged hands, Milliardo gripped his hair with wrapped fingers, a futile motion to resolve all the confusion in his skull. //I'm losing it… I may very well lose it completely tomorrow when I wake up… How long will my sanity stay?//
"You don't look ten," came Duo's blunt reply, though it carried an edge, quite unsurprised.
Looking up a bit, Zechs blinked slowly in the dim light. //Does he… know? How could he… Could they already know?... But how…? The disk! Did they understand it, what was on it?// "I'm not… as I look. As I feel! I /know/ I'm much older… taller… Or /was/… I didn't have time to sort out what was done to me—I had to get out of there before they could do worse."
Duo just seemed to stare at him in the shadowy room.
Relaxing his hands back into his lap, Zechs stared at them dispiritedly. Mechanically, he started the standard prisoner's rote. //Name, number, rank, description… I should be able to recite it in my sleep—I wish I /did/, rather than have those nightmares.// "Name: Zechs Merquise. Rank: Colonel, Oz Specials… Number: 2599634786… Age… Age…" //My head… My head /hurts/!// "Damn it, why is that always the hardest now?!?"
"Nineteen?" supplied a gentle but mischievous voice beside the bed. Duo.
//He knows, then… The disk… Oh, what does it matter anymore? Let them kill you before you go through the indignity of insanity!// Startled ice blue eyes closed slowly. "You know everything, then… My files… You managed to read all that medical jargon, too…"
"Nah, not really. We had a doctor translate into plain English." Duo chuckled quietly, tone smug… then the tone dropped to that gentle note again. "They really screwed you over, it sounds like…"
Zechs winced at the term, but didn't look up.
"Why'd they play with you? What'd you do to make them hate you so much? You were one of their own, their best…" Duo couldn't seem to curtail his curiosity.
//I wanted revenge… They couldn't give me justice, after all…// Milliardo opened his eyes again, but didn't lift his head. "I slipped… Romefeller might fear me, and they're in control now… They fear for good reason, though."
A cough. Duo leaned forward on his folded arms. "Romefeller? I thought they're just financial guys—big money, big titles, no brains, mostly strut…"
Zechs simply shook his head, staring past his hands at an image of fire consuming familiar palace walls. //They might be… what that general meant before I shot him. They gave the orders, maybe?// Distantly, he admitted, "I thought so, too… until recently… Romefeller's a conglomerate of nobility—who want power. You get what you pay for—and they essentially paid for Oz, their own private army… Only now they're more visible, more active—starting to take control. Treize won't last much longer, I think."
He heard Duo's breath come out in a soft whistle. "Then it's bigger than even /we/ thought… Damn… And here I wanted to take my vacation at year's end! Why would they be afraid of you, though, if they're cutting Treize out?"
Shivering, Zechs drew the sheets a bit closer about his bare body and scooted back so he could lean against the pillows. His body was still so very tired, in need of a little healing pampering. //They know—I could walk in and trample the lot of them just by announcing to the world my real name… They don't know that I'd rather work as a plowhand on an antiquated farm than hold power like that over others… Add on my tendency for revenge, and Tallgeese, and… it makes sense. But I don't want to drag Sanc into this…//
Instead, Milliardo offered softly, "I joined Oz for revenge against certain members of the Alliance, and to undo some of their past efforts… I achieved my goals, though now I wonder if my revenge didn't target /all/ those responsible—that maybe /Romefeller/ is what I missed earlier. Only a certain duel that still needs finishing has kept me with Oz… a duel with the pilot of 01… And Romefeller knows all this, I suspect."
Duo stared at him for a long time after that admission… until Zechs dared look up through his long bangs, uncomfortable with this long silence.
"And after that? What were you going to do then?" Duo asked quietly.
Blinking, Zechs wiped hair from his eyes. "After that…? I haven't considered that far ahead," he admitted honestly, feeling like his soul was bared to the world, but not really caring right now. It felt… necessary. And what could they do to him that wasn't already done? Duo was giving him the most fair-handed and understanding audience he'd had since he'd first met Noin. "I… rather expected to die achieving my goals… I suppose I'll just die in that duel… He—Heero, you called him—has more reason to win, more drive, than I do…"
Feeling a touch of dampness growing in his eyes, Miri turned his head away, to look at the open doorway. //I sold my life and soul… There /is/ no "after that".// "I gave up my life—my identity—probably my soul—to undo the Alliance's cruelty… I'm not expecting a refund."
"Man, and I thought /Heero/ was depressing and suicidal!" Duo laughed, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his head. "Kid—"
//Enough "kid" business…// "I thought we already established—I'm not a kid," Zechs grumbled. His young voice wasn't suited for growling.
Duo shook his head, chuckling. "Zechs, then… Man, you need to loosen up and enjoy life a little! There's more to life than saving the world, you know. We're all trying to do that—in our own ways. But you have to take the time to look at the stars now and then, or you won't know what you're fighting for…"
Pale blue eyes sank back to his lap, as Zechs considered those words carefully. //He… He has a point.//
The audible—and painful—growling of his stomach drew Miri out of his reverie with an embarrassed flush. "Ah… sorry… I think I need that meal we spoke about earlier…" //I hope it's not the standard prisoner's rock- hard bread and water again. That's stale even before it arrives, and I can count my own ribs right now, so it's a bad diet plan…//
Nodding, Deathscythe's pilot got to his feet again and turned for the door. "I'll get you something. Maybe Quatre, too—he needs to hear what you told me, and I think you should meet our host finally. Don't try and go anywhere, okay? There's still stuff we have to sort out…"
Silently, Zechs nodded slowly, giving his bond for the moment. //At least this lot seems a bit more… humane than Romefeller's base. And where would I go, anyway? It's pure desert out there… and nobody's left me a stitch!//
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Duo kept his pace quick as he walked through the dark halls, Quatre scurrying at his side with a tray of food as Duo carried an oil lamp to light their way so they wouldn't bump into things. The blonde pilot had been surprised to be woken, but eager to talk to their prisoner, now that he had a chance. "I think he's a good guy—and was, before, under that cold exterior," Sandrock's pilot had stated.
//And I needed Quatre to find the food in this place. Sure, it /looks/ easy, when food's brought to you… But backtracking it to its source isn't something I usually do. And I need to hurry, just in case… I really hope Zechs didn't decide to vanish off while I was out, but… you never know. And he did say… He said he felt he was starting to lose his mind… God only knows what /I'd/ do, if it were me…//
They turned the corner and stepped into the room, Duo lifting the light to see—
//Ah yes, still here.//
Zechs hadn't moved from the bed. Pillows had been pushed against the headboard, so he could be sitting up, and long pale hair gleamed like a moonlit river on the soft cloth. The boy's head was down, ragged bangs obscuring his face and hiding his eyes from the world and the light…
In fact, he hadn't reacted to the light.
//Is he okay?// Concern jumped through Duo's nerves, and he set the lamp down on a small table, stepping over to the bed. "Hey, kid… Zechs…"
No answer…
Worried now, Duo reached out to give a bare shoulder a little shake. "Hey, Zechs, wake up…"
Pale blue eyes opened—and in the next instant, the boy jerked away so fast he almost materialized at the far side of the bed. Panting, hands clenched into fists, body tensed as if to leap away—or /at/—those facing him in self- defense, Zechs's eyes glared at Duo with a mix of pain, fear, defiance… and an almost hateful rage.
Those eyes rocked Duo back a step. //Good God…// He could hear behind him Quatre's quick intake of breath out of surprise and dismay. //He's like a cornered animal.//
But that look swiftly faded to embarrassment, almost sheepish—an almost amusing expression to see on the youth's face. "I… I'm sorry… Just… don't do that, please. I told you—my memories—/everything/ feels very recent at times."
Duo breathed a soft sigh. //Ouch!// "Sorry about that. But if you don't eat now, your stomach's growling will probably wake everyone else up before morning."
"Do you think you can manage a spoon with your hands like that?" Quatre asked immediately, concerned, bringing the tray over and waiting for the boy to settle back among the pillows before depositing the load on Zechs's lap. "I'm Quatre Rabera Winner, by the way—"
That made the boy rip his eager gaze up from the enticing meal on his lap, blinking large eyes in the lamplight. "Winner…? The wealthy family that nearly owns a colony?"
//Am I the only one who didn't recognize Quatre's last name immediately?// Duo thought with some consternation, taking his seat on his backwards chair again.
Quatre had seated himself on the side of the bed, by the foot, far enough away not to make Zechs uncomfortable. And the innocent Gundam pilot flushed in the limited light, bowing his head sheepishly. "Yes, well… I'm kind of the black sheep of the family, I guess…"
"Quatre here's a Gundam pilot, too," Duo supplied. //He may as well know.// "The one with the thermal sickles—"
"They're scimitars, Duo, and they're heat shorters," Quatre corrected gently. "I call it 'Sandrock'."
"04," Zechs identified quietly, looking from one to the other, his pale eyes seeming sad again, resigned.
Those eyes almost broke Duo's heart. //I'm sorry… that we're enemies… or were…// "Hey, eat up, 'kiddo'—your stew's getting cold."
But Zechs didn't touch the spoon on the tray. He just looked down at it uncaringly.
Quatre glanced at Duo—his expression slightly hurt. "It's safe, I promise… There's nothing in the food."
"What… will happen to me?" Zechs asked very quietly, almost too softly for Duo or Quatre to catch.
Both Gundam pilots looked at each other again, uncomfortably, at that question.
//Does… does he think we intend to kill him?// Duo wondered. //But… he's a /kid/. Even if he wasn't before, he is now… I don't think we can kill him…//
"Why did you… give us all the information you did?" Quatre asked carefully in reply, surprising Duo with the question.
//Quatre?!? It's a good question, but still… a bit more like something I'd say. Then again, I sometimes forget he's as much a killer as the rest of us Gundam pilots… and /good/ at it, too, when he has to be.// "I'd like to know, too," Duo added belatedly.
That lowered head shook slightly, side to side, making silvery hair flow about him like disturbed water. "Because… it doesn't matter. Or rather—/I/ don't matter, at least not now… /Someone/ has to stop them… Romefeller's worse than the Alliance ever was… And I can't give justice—it's not mine to give… At best I can only give revenge…" Despair and resignation covered his words with hopeless shades.
Duo closed his eyes in pain, remembering… //Maxwell Church… Well, /I/ think sometimes justice and revenge are the same things!// Opening them again, he cast a determined smile the pale boy's way. "Sometimes, you know… they're the same thing, justice and revenge. I think we're on the same side here, though…"
"That's right," Quatre added, smiling warmly. "We shouldn't be fighting when we have the same goals—the same enemy. We should work together."
Zechs lifted his head slowly, eyes bright in the moonlight—tinged with hope finally. "Are you… are you sure? I'm not exactly… well…" A wave of a bandaged hand indicated his current state and situation. "I can't offer much… I'm not even sure how long I might be sane…"
Chuckling, Duo shook his head. //Somehow… I think that's not as big a handicap as he may consider it…// "Hey, you still flew a plane somehow… and we can cue you to which era you're in when you need it."
"/And/ you brought two impressive mobile suits out of Oz—Romefeller's—hands," Quatre contributed, grinning brightly. "And you probably know more about both organizations than we do! Will you join us?"
The boy's ice blue eyes echoed the slowly growing smile beneath them. "I think… Yes. Though if you'd let me, I'd like to spare a few old friends' lives…" The smile faded to pain. "Those that are left, anyway… I've lost too many in this war."
Both Gundam pilots nodded enthusiastically. Duo felt like cheering. //Hey, this'll be neat! I bet he has the scoop on everything in Oz—after all, he was pretty close to Treize…//
"Sure! Who?" Quatre inquired eagerly. "Do you think they'd want to help us, too?"
"I think I can convince them… or /could/, if I were my normal self… Though I'm not sure you'll want them," came the hesitant answer. "Noin—she's already out of Oz, if I know her at all… But… ah… the other is… Treize."
Duo gaped. Quatre looked like someone slapped him on the back of the head with a nine-iron.
//TREIZE?!? He's kidding! I mean, sure, he said Romefeller might be targeting the guy next but… him, join US? Though I have to admit, I'd never have expected the cute kid—er, Zechs here—to join us, either, so…//
"Ah… I think we'll have to consider Treize, um, maybe another time—discuss it later, maybe," Quatre offered weakly. "Him… I really don't know, but it's really a moot point right now…"
Duo's eyes flicked to Zechs's stew, and he smirked over the back of his chair, gesturing at the cooling meal. "Yeah, we've bigger things to deal with right now than His Excellency… Like your stew, remember?"
Zechs actually laughed. But he /did/ listen.
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His Excellency Treize Kushrenada, meanwhile, stared gape-jawed at the frozen screen before him, flabbergasted. He'd been at it for a full minute. He had yet to manage to get free of the shock currently binding his brain in tight webbing.
This /couldn't/ be real.
Coherent thought was currently on hold due to the intellectual traffic jam in his skull. Someone had slammed with full strength on the brakes on the busy, fast-moving highways of thought—all of them at the same instant.
Until an irrational thought decided to reset the traffic signals with, //Well, he still makes a rather cute kid…//
Then coherent thought managed to move again. Albeit a bit sluggishly at first.
Treize called out sharply to his pilot, "Signal ahead for a briefing on surrounding Alliance activities to be reported to me. And tell the search teams to do their hunt from above radar levels so as not to be noticed. Then have them meet us at the Oz Congo Training Base to report to me in person. I want satellite photos of the entire search area—the entire range that plane could have gone—and I want experts looking for that plane or what may have happened to it…"
//God, Milliardo, this cannot be easy on you… Do you remember that day in full now? Do you remember the pain that drove you into my hands, to join Oz in a desperate means of fulfilling your silent promises to the dead?//
The young General gazed sadly at the masked boy on the screen in ragged clothes, armed with toys and a determined grimace…
//Who are you? Prince or soldier? Do you remember /us/—or the past?//
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Also, somewhere in southern Europe…
"They're catching onto us. We have to get out of here. And they're surely watching the port and airports for anything as large as a mobile suit," a soft voice murmured in an old hangar, green eyes glinting over an apple.
The bandaged figure before him said nothing for a long moment, Prussian blue eyes concealing a swirl of calculations. Then, Heero finally answered, "By land, then. We can't stay and be found."
"If we could get a plane, we could get you a mobile suit from the Maganacs…"
"We have to keep your Heavyarms from their hands, first," came the noncommittal reply. The bandaged figure in the shadows moved towards the mobile suit truck. "But another suit may be useful later on."
Another long pause, as the pair silently got into the truck and started it up, working together with efficient smoothness. The truck grunted to life, creaking as it backed out of the old hangar and started along narrow European streets for the highway traffic.
"The checkpoints shouldn't be a problem. Passports might be, though," Trowa murmured after a bit. "Unless I can get Oz papers…"
"If you can get me to an internet café, I can forge some."
Trowa simply nodded to that, unsurprised, gaze not wavering from the hectic traffic of Italy's cramped streets. "That would work. I know of one in the next city. We have to keep them from looking under the tarp, though."
"Easy enough, with a big name. And I have someone big enough in mind," Heero replied simply, unconcerned.
That drew only another efficient nod from Trowa.
The rest of the trip continued in silence.
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Guess whose name Heero intends to use as the one giving orders for their movements! Hehe…. And no, there weren't any mobile suits in use when Zechs was 6, so his dreams are NOT exact memories—though a great part of their makeup is based on true memories of his, mixing past and present.
Chapter Eight: Then You Wake Up And Remember That You Can't Forget!
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Disclaimer: Who owns Gundam Wing again? All together now… Bansai and Sunrise! You never know—by the end of this, maybe we'll be singing it… I hope not. Oh, by the way, the old fish died finally. Too late to sue me!
Warnings: Sarcasm, some medical term stuff… Sorry, nothing blows up.
Pairings: 2x6 eventually it seems, by the end, but until 6 is an adult again, don't expect anything more than friendship.
Zechs wakes up, and has a chat with Duo and Quatre. Treize starts down a path that may collide with the new desert alliance. Meanwhile, Trowa and Heero consider finding Quatre and the Manganacs.
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Zechs twisted about in the sheets, moaning quietly. He could see the palace burning around him, smell the blood and burning flesh, see bloody streaks on the walls and floor where the fire had yet to spread, hear the roar of flames, falling stone, gunfire outside… Screams of people trying to escape only to run into the firing squad made of Alliance soldiers waiting in mobile suits and on foot… and he was still inside, running the maze of corridors in desperate hopes of finding an unguarded exit…
//Fire, fire all around… Father! Father, how could they do this?!? They were your friends—and friends of friends… I thought… And now… I can't get out! Father! FATHER! So much blood—fire—oh let me out, please let me out! I'm sorry—I'm sorry! I have to leave—they'll kill me, and someone has to… Someone has to rescue Sanc… I'm sorry! There's no-one else—no- one at all, just me...! I'm a coward—I should stay, be brave, face them—I can't! I /can't/! /You/ said the people come first—I /have/ to rescue them… Fire and blood… Fire and blood… I'm a coward, a coward…//
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry—they'll kill me! Have to get out…" Shaking his head, he gripped at the sheets tighter. "There's no-one left, no-one else… A coward, I'm such a coward…"
Shivering, he shook his head again, as if in defiance or negation, though of what he could never define. "The people come first… Have to… Have to…!"
Behind closed eyes, he could see the floor collapsing beneath him, and cried out as he fell what felt like an endless height—
"Noooo!"
And found himself sitting upright in the sheets, gasping for breath, soaked in sweat with his long ragged bangs plastered to his skin, in a dark, unfamiliar room. Sounds of the desert night echoed nearby, through the open door and high windows. Weak moonlight offered vague grey shadows, hinting that the room had furnishings beyond just the bed and nightstand…
//I'm… I'm starting to lose it, I think. Where do the nightmares end, and memories begin anymore? It all feels like it happened yesterday, /all/ of it, the falling of Sanc, everything… But if it did, the rest is a dream of revenge that never happened. Did it? How can it? I'm… It's… I'm losing it. I'm can't find reality anymore—I'm losing it…// Confused, still feeling the aftereffects of his nightmares, Zechs rubbed at his face with his hands, pushing long bangs back from his face. Soft cloth scraped against his skin—light bandages covering his burns and cuts, nearly hiding his hands…
The faintest of rustling sounds told him he wasn't alone.
Disoriented by both nightmares and his tangled memories, feeling vulnerable due to the naked state of things as well as his lack of weaponry at hand, Zechs shivered and pulled the sheets tighter about himself, asking uncertainly, "Who…? Who is it?"
"That was some nightmare, kid," a familiar cheerful voice grudged as Duo's form detached itself from the shadows under the windows.
Zechs puffed a breath of relief, though he bristled slightly. //Why is he here? To watch me yell in my sleep?// "Why?" He let one word ask everything.
The shadowy figure in his dark clothes pulled a chair from somewhere in the semi-darkness, turned it around, and sat down so he could fold his arms across the backrest. "Well, I /did/ say Duo Maxwell hides, didn't I? And you have to admit, when we met, there wasn't much time to hear your story. This—watching someone's dreams and nightmares—was one way to gather a bit… Though I have to admit, it's a lot less coherent than hearing you tell the thing."
Zechs could only stare at him with large eyes, feeling Duo's words slide over him without comprehending much of it. Frustrated, still feeling disoriented, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose with a wrapped finger. //I'm not sure what he means… Oh hell. Focus, Miri, focus! Back to basics…//
"Who rules Sanc?" he demanded abruptly, looking up again.
Duo's shadow jerked backward in what was likely surprise at such an unrelated question. "What…? Who rules… where? Where'd /that/ question come from?"
Frowning, Zechs glared at the Gundam pilot. "Who rules /Sanc/ right now? The Alliance? Or…?"
Seeming incredulous, Duo stood up again and paced a little, rubbing the back of his head. "Sanc, Sanc… Uh, I'm not good with those little Earth countries, though it sounds vaguely familiar…" Suddenly, the young man snapped his fingers. "I know! The little revived kingdom! It was on the news recently—how Relena Dorlian turned out to be actually the Vice Foreign Minister's adopted daughter and really a Peacecraft by blood… I remember telling myself that Heero'd get a kick out of hearing that about his stalker girlfriend…"
//Relena… Okay, then I /did/ set it free—and that's the reality… Relena… Wait a minute!// Young Milliardo stared at Duo as if the young man had grown a second head and was threatening to grow a third. Cold fire stirred slowly behind pale blue eyes… ///Stalker girlfriend/?!?// "Stalker…?"
Chuckling, Duo nodded at the half question, resuming his seat. "Yeah, well, Heero—01, to you—enrolled in her school early on, and when he and I joined another one, she followed. Seems intent on sitting him down for a long chat about peace and such, but after seeing her true roots, is it surprising? Anyway, it's a long story, and I'm not saying more about it until you give me /your/ long tale… By the way, what brought that up, anyway?"
//I guess she's just trying to press for peace… though what she's doing sounds pretty naive… Should I tell him? I don't think… Not that I'm Miri, no. I'll be lucky if he believes me when I tell him I was six feet plus… Heck, /I/ still barely believe me!// Looking down at his hands, Miri was quiet for a long moment, feeling his brief anger fade and depression start setting in. //What'll happen to me? Will I lose my mind entirely?//
Duo's concerned voice was gentle. "Hey, I don't go about blabbing unless it's important. Can't last as a Gundam pilot by telling everything you know, you know? But if you don't want to right now, I guess I can understand—you don't know us too well, either…"
Something within Miri stirred, making a significant crack in the remainders of his old control, upon hearing that understanding voice say that…
"I think I'm starting to lose my mind… my hold on reality," Zechs blurted quietly, shuddering as the words escaped.
His eyes closed. //Now I've done it. There's no way anyone'll believe me—let alone help me—now…//
Duo remained silent, unmoving in the backwards chair.
"My memories… The past feels like the present, and they all get tangled—I've no sense of time between them anymore… After the nightmares, they're so fresh—hard to believe that many of them were over ten years ago…" Resting his head in his bandaged hands, Milliardo gripped his hair with wrapped fingers, a futile motion to resolve all the confusion in his skull. //I'm losing it… I may very well lose it completely tomorrow when I wake up… How long will my sanity stay?//
"You don't look ten," came Duo's blunt reply, though it carried an edge, quite unsurprised.
Looking up a bit, Zechs blinked slowly in the dim light. //Does he… know? How could he… Could they already know?... But how…? The disk! Did they understand it, what was on it?// "I'm not… as I look. As I feel! I /know/ I'm much older… taller… Or /was/… I didn't have time to sort out what was done to me—I had to get out of there before they could do worse."
Duo just seemed to stare at him in the shadowy room.
Relaxing his hands back into his lap, Zechs stared at them dispiritedly. Mechanically, he started the standard prisoner's rote. //Name, number, rank, description… I should be able to recite it in my sleep—I wish I /did/, rather than have those nightmares.// "Name: Zechs Merquise. Rank: Colonel, Oz Specials… Number: 2599634786… Age… Age…" //My head… My head /hurts/!// "Damn it, why is that always the hardest now?!?"
"Nineteen?" supplied a gentle but mischievous voice beside the bed. Duo.
//He knows, then… The disk… Oh, what does it matter anymore? Let them kill you before you go through the indignity of insanity!// Startled ice blue eyes closed slowly. "You know everything, then… My files… You managed to read all that medical jargon, too…"
"Nah, not really. We had a doctor translate into plain English." Duo chuckled quietly, tone smug… then the tone dropped to that gentle note again. "They really screwed you over, it sounds like…"
Zechs winced at the term, but didn't look up.
"Why'd they play with you? What'd you do to make them hate you so much? You were one of their own, their best…" Duo couldn't seem to curtail his curiosity.
//I wanted revenge… They couldn't give me justice, after all…// Milliardo opened his eyes again, but didn't lift his head. "I slipped… Romefeller might fear me, and they're in control now… They fear for good reason, though."
A cough. Duo leaned forward on his folded arms. "Romefeller? I thought they're just financial guys—big money, big titles, no brains, mostly strut…"
Zechs simply shook his head, staring past his hands at an image of fire consuming familiar palace walls. //They might be… what that general meant before I shot him. They gave the orders, maybe?// Distantly, he admitted, "I thought so, too… until recently… Romefeller's a conglomerate of nobility—who want power. You get what you pay for—and they essentially paid for Oz, their own private army… Only now they're more visible, more active—starting to take control. Treize won't last much longer, I think."
He heard Duo's breath come out in a soft whistle. "Then it's bigger than even /we/ thought… Damn… And here I wanted to take my vacation at year's end! Why would they be afraid of you, though, if they're cutting Treize out?"
Shivering, Zechs drew the sheets a bit closer about his bare body and scooted back so he could lean against the pillows. His body was still so very tired, in need of a little healing pampering. //They know—I could walk in and trample the lot of them just by announcing to the world my real name… They don't know that I'd rather work as a plowhand on an antiquated farm than hold power like that over others… Add on my tendency for revenge, and Tallgeese, and… it makes sense. But I don't want to drag Sanc into this…//
Instead, Milliardo offered softly, "I joined Oz for revenge against certain members of the Alliance, and to undo some of their past efforts… I achieved my goals, though now I wonder if my revenge didn't target /all/ those responsible—that maybe /Romefeller/ is what I missed earlier. Only a certain duel that still needs finishing has kept me with Oz… a duel with the pilot of 01… And Romefeller knows all this, I suspect."
Duo stared at him for a long time after that admission… until Zechs dared look up through his long bangs, uncomfortable with this long silence.
"And after that? What were you going to do then?" Duo asked quietly.
Blinking, Zechs wiped hair from his eyes. "After that…? I haven't considered that far ahead," he admitted honestly, feeling like his soul was bared to the world, but not really caring right now. It felt… necessary. And what could they do to him that wasn't already done? Duo was giving him the most fair-handed and understanding audience he'd had since he'd first met Noin. "I… rather expected to die achieving my goals… I suppose I'll just die in that duel… He—Heero, you called him—has more reason to win, more drive, than I do…"
Feeling a touch of dampness growing in his eyes, Miri turned his head away, to look at the open doorway. //I sold my life and soul… There /is/ no "after that".// "I gave up my life—my identity—probably my soul—to undo the Alliance's cruelty… I'm not expecting a refund."
"Man, and I thought /Heero/ was depressing and suicidal!" Duo laughed, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his head. "Kid—"
//Enough "kid" business…// "I thought we already established—I'm not a kid," Zechs grumbled. His young voice wasn't suited for growling.
Duo shook his head, chuckling. "Zechs, then… Man, you need to loosen up and enjoy life a little! There's more to life than saving the world, you know. We're all trying to do that—in our own ways. But you have to take the time to look at the stars now and then, or you won't know what you're fighting for…"
Pale blue eyes sank back to his lap, as Zechs considered those words carefully. //He… He has a point.//
The audible—and painful—growling of his stomach drew Miri out of his reverie with an embarrassed flush. "Ah… sorry… I think I need that meal we spoke about earlier…" //I hope it's not the standard prisoner's rock- hard bread and water again. That's stale even before it arrives, and I can count my own ribs right now, so it's a bad diet plan…//
Nodding, Deathscythe's pilot got to his feet again and turned for the door. "I'll get you something. Maybe Quatre, too—he needs to hear what you told me, and I think you should meet our host finally. Don't try and go anywhere, okay? There's still stuff we have to sort out…"
Silently, Zechs nodded slowly, giving his bond for the moment. //At least this lot seems a bit more… humane than Romefeller's base. And where would I go, anyway? It's pure desert out there… and nobody's left me a stitch!//
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Duo kept his pace quick as he walked through the dark halls, Quatre scurrying at his side with a tray of food as Duo carried an oil lamp to light their way so they wouldn't bump into things. The blonde pilot had been surprised to be woken, but eager to talk to their prisoner, now that he had a chance. "I think he's a good guy—and was, before, under that cold exterior," Sandrock's pilot had stated.
//And I needed Quatre to find the food in this place. Sure, it /looks/ easy, when food's brought to you… But backtracking it to its source isn't something I usually do. And I need to hurry, just in case… I really hope Zechs didn't decide to vanish off while I was out, but… you never know. And he did say… He said he felt he was starting to lose his mind… God only knows what /I'd/ do, if it were me…//
They turned the corner and stepped into the room, Duo lifting the light to see—
//Ah yes, still here.//
Zechs hadn't moved from the bed. Pillows had been pushed against the headboard, so he could be sitting up, and long pale hair gleamed like a moonlit river on the soft cloth. The boy's head was down, ragged bangs obscuring his face and hiding his eyes from the world and the light…
In fact, he hadn't reacted to the light.
//Is he okay?// Concern jumped through Duo's nerves, and he set the lamp down on a small table, stepping over to the bed. "Hey, kid… Zechs…"
No answer…
Worried now, Duo reached out to give a bare shoulder a little shake. "Hey, Zechs, wake up…"
Pale blue eyes opened—and in the next instant, the boy jerked away so fast he almost materialized at the far side of the bed. Panting, hands clenched into fists, body tensed as if to leap away—or /at/—those facing him in self- defense, Zechs's eyes glared at Duo with a mix of pain, fear, defiance… and an almost hateful rage.
Those eyes rocked Duo back a step. //Good God…// He could hear behind him Quatre's quick intake of breath out of surprise and dismay. //He's like a cornered animal.//
But that look swiftly faded to embarrassment, almost sheepish—an almost amusing expression to see on the youth's face. "I… I'm sorry… Just… don't do that, please. I told you—my memories—/everything/ feels very recent at times."
Duo breathed a soft sigh. //Ouch!// "Sorry about that. But if you don't eat now, your stomach's growling will probably wake everyone else up before morning."
"Do you think you can manage a spoon with your hands like that?" Quatre asked immediately, concerned, bringing the tray over and waiting for the boy to settle back among the pillows before depositing the load on Zechs's lap. "I'm Quatre Rabera Winner, by the way—"
That made the boy rip his eager gaze up from the enticing meal on his lap, blinking large eyes in the lamplight. "Winner…? The wealthy family that nearly owns a colony?"
//Am I the only one who didn't recognize Quatre's last name immediately?// Duo thought with some consternation, taking his seat on his backwards chair again.
Quatre had seated himself on the side of the bed, by the foot, far enough away not to make Zechs uncomfortable. And the innocent Gundam pilot flushed in the limited light, bowing his head sheepishly. "Yes, well… I'm kind of the black sheep of the family, I guess…"
"Quatre here's a Gundam pilot, too," Duo supplied. //He may as well know.// "The one with the thermal sickles—"
"They're scimitars, Duo, and they're heat shorters," Quatre corrected gently. "I call it 'Sandrock'."
"04," Zechs identified quietly, looking from one to the other, his pale eyes seeming sad again, resigned.
Those eyes almost broke Duo's heart. //I'm sorry… that we're enemies… or were…// "Hey, eat up, 'kiddo'—your stew's getting cold."
But Zechs didn't touch the spoon on the tray. He just looked down at it uncaringly.
Quatre glanced at Duo—his expression slightly hurt. "It's safe, I promise… There's nothing in the food."
"What… will happen to me?" Zechs asked very quietly, almost too softly for Duo or Quatre to catch.
Both Gundam pilots looked at each other again, uncomfortably, at that question.
//Does… does he think we intend to kill him?// Duo wondered. //But… he's a /kid/. Even if he wasn't before, he is now… I don't think we can kill him…//
"Why did you… give us all the information you did?" Quatre asked carefully in reply, surprising Duo with the question.
//Quatre?!? It's a good question, but still… a bit more like something I'd say. Then again, I sometimes forget he's as much a killer as the rest of us Gundam pilots… and /good/ at it, too, when he has to be.// "I'd like to know, too," Duo added belatedly.
That lowered head shook slightly, side to side, making silvery hair flow about him like disturbed water. "Because… it doesn't matter. Or rather—/I/ don't matter, at least not now… /Someone/ has to stop them… Romefeller's worse than the Alliance ever was… And I can't give justice—it's not mine to give… At best I can only give revenge…" Despair and resignation covered his words with hopeless shades.
Duo closed his eyes in pain, remembering… //Maxwell Church… Well, /I/ think sometimes justice and revenge are the same things!// Opening them again, he cast a determined smile the pale boy's way. "Sometimes, you know… they're the same thing, justice and revenge. I think we're on the same side here, though…"
"That's right," Quatre added, smiling warmly. "We shouldn't be fighting when we have the same goals—the same enemy. We should work together."
Zechs lifted his head slowly, eyes bright in the moonlight—tinged with hope finally. "Are you… are you sure? I'm not exactly… well…" A wave of a bandaged hand indicated his current state and situation. "I can't offer much… I'm not even sure how long I might be sane…"
Chuckling, Duo shook his head. //Somehow… I think that's not as big a handicap as he may consider it…// "Hey, you still flew a plane somehow… and we can cue you to which era you're in when you need it."
"/And/ you brought two impressive mobile suits out of Oz—Romefeller's—hands," Quatre contributed, grinning brightly. "And you probably know more about both organizations than we do! Will you join us?"
The boy's ice blue eyes echoed the slowly growing smile beneath them. "I think… Yes. Though if you'd let me, I'd like to spare a few old friends' lives…" The smile faded to pain. "Those that are left, anyway… I've lost too many in this war."
Both Gundam pilots nodded enthusiastically. Duo felt like cheering. //Hey, this'll be neat! I bet he has the scoop on everything in Oz—after all, he was pretty close to Treize…//
"Sure! Who?" Quatre inquired eagerly. "Do you think they'd want to help us, too?"
"I think I can convince them… or /could/, if I were my normal self… Though I'm not sure you'll want them," came the hesitant answer. "Noin—she's already out of Oz, if I know her at all… But… ah… the other is… Treize."
Duo gaped. Quatre looked like someone slapped him on the back of the head with a nine-iron.
//TREIZE?!? He's kidding! I mean, sure, he said Romefeller might be targeting the guy next but… him, join US? Though I have to admit, I'd never have expected the cute kid—er, Zechs here—to join us, either, so…//
"Ah… I think we'll have to consider Treize, um, maybe another time—discuss it later, maybe," Quatre offered weakly. "Him… I really don't know, but it's really a moot point right now…"
Duo's eyes flicked to Zechs's stew, and he smirked over the back of his chair, gesturing at the cooling meal. "Yeah, we've bigger things to deal with right now than His Excellency… Like your stew, remember?"
Zechs actually laughed. But he /did/ listen.
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His Excellency Treize Kushrenada, meanwhile, stared gape-jawed at the frozen screen before him, flabbergasted. He'd been at it for a full minute. He had yet to manage to get free of the shock currently binding his brain in tight webbing.
This /couldn't/ be real.
Coherent thought was currently on hold due to the intellectual traffic jam in his skull. Someone had slammed with full strength on the brakes on the busy, fast-moving highways of thought—all of them at the same instant.
Until an irrational thought decided to reset the traffic signals with, //Well, he still makes a rather cute kid…//
Then coherent thought managed to move again. Albeit a bit sluggishly at first.
Treize called out sharply to his pilot, "Signal ahead for a briefing on surrounding Alliance activities to be reported to me. And tell the search teams to do their hunt from above radar levels so as not to be noticed. Then have them meet us at the Oz Congo Training Base to report to me in person. I want satellite photos of the entire search area—the entire range that plane could have gone—and I want experts looking for that plane or what may have happened to it…"
//God, Milliardo, this cannot be easy on you… Do you remember that day in full now? Do you remember the pain that drove you into my hands, to join Oz in a desperate means of fulfilling your silent promises to the dead?//
The young General gazed sadly at the masked boy on the screen in ragged clothes, armed with toys and a determined grimace…
//Who are you? Prince or soldier? Do you remember /us/—or the past?//
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Also, somewhere in southern Europe…
"They're catching onto us. We have to get out of here. And they're surely watching the port and airports for anything as large as a mobile suit," a soft voice murmured in an old hangar, green eyes glinting over an apple.
The bandaged figure before him said nothing for a long moment, Prussian blue eyes concealing a swirl of calculations. Then, Heero finally answered, "By land, then. We can't stay and be found."
"If we could get a plane, we could get you a mobile suit from the Maganacs…"
"We have to keep your Heavyarms from their hands, first," came the noncommittal reply. The bandaged figure in the shadows moved towards the mobile suit truck. "But another suit may be useful later on."
Another long pause, as the pair silently got into the truck and started it up, working together with efficient smoothness. The truck grunted to life, creaking as it backed out of the old hangar and started along narrow European streets for the highway traffic.
"The checkpoints shouldn't be a problem. Passports might be, though," Trowa murmured after a bit. "Unless I can get Oz papers…"
"If you can get me to an internet café, I can forge some."
Trowa simply nodded to that, unsurprised, gaze not wavering from the hectic traffic of Italy's cramped streets. "That would work. I know of one in the next city. We have to keep them from looking under the tarp, though."
"Easy enough, with a big name. And I have someone big enough in mind," Heero replied simply, unconcerned.
That drew only another efficient nod from Trowa.
The rest of the trip continued in silence.
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Guess whose name Heero intends to use as the one giving orders for their movements! Hehe…. And no, there weren't any mobile suits in use when Zechs was 6, so his dreams are NOT exact memories—though a great part of their makeup is based on true memories of his, mixing past and present.